


5 times newt and hermann attempted roleplay in bed (and the 1 time it sort of worked)

by buckgaybarnes



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bickering during Sex, Coitus Interruptus, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Roleplay, featuring a host of situations including but not limited to, my continuing crusade to deliver bad sexy roleplay to the newt/hermann fandom, sexy professor sexy librarian sexy monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 19:42:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15396018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckgaybarnes/pseuds/buckgaybarnes
Summary: Newt is a man of simple sexual tastes, and those tastes start and stop with one Hermann Gottlieb in any way he can have him, so Newt rarely turns down any requests to try something new. This one is no exception.





	5 times newt and hermann attempted roleplay in bed (and the 1 time it sort of worked)

**Author's Note:**

> as you probably know if you've followed my works on here for a while, i've already written two roleplay fics (hermann roleplaying as a biologist and the regrettable hermann-roleplaying-as-owen-harper) but i really just can't get enough. also, do u really ship something if you've never written a five times fic before? do people still write five times fics? i'm old
> 
> thank u to erica (the magnificent skeleton_twins) who i had a lengthy convo with on twitter and inspired the monster movie bit and the "warp speed ahead" line (you'll get context later)

Newt is a man of simple sexual tastes, and those tastes start and stop with one Hermann Gottlieb in any way he can have him. Getting plowed by Hermann? Magnificent. Being the one doing the plowing? Not _nearly_ as magnificent, but if Hermann wants it, he’ll do it. Blowing Hermann? Giving Hermann a handjob? Eating him out? (Or, alternatively, being the one being eaten out?) Sitting in Hermann’s lap and grinding off on Hermann while Hermann recites his Breach equation in Newt’s ear?

The last one’s a little specific, but all are great, superb, because frankly, _anything_ Hermann does has the ability to set him off. The list of things about Hermann Newt’s jerks off to includes, but isn’t limited to: Hermann’s sock garters, Hermann’s accent, Hermann’s hands, Hermann’s math (because it’s an indicator of Hermann’s big sexy brain). If Hermann wants to do something, Newt eagerly goes along with it. 

Hermann raises the question at hand one evening as they shared a nice, fun romp in Hermann’s bunk. “I’ve been doing research,” Hermann says, as Newt happily bounces away on his cock.

“Yeah?” Newt pants.

“And I think perhaps we should—oh, that’s _very_ lovely—introduce some new variables into our sex life.”

Newt grinds down, the head of Hermann’s cock brushing his prostate, and he arches his back with a shout. “ _Y_ _eah_!”

“I’m pleased you agree,” Hermann says. “It suggested bondage—” Tied up by Hermann? Sounds fantastic, sign Newt up, “—gags—” oh, that sounds _very_ fantastic, “—and perhaps roleplay.”

“Like—“ Newt starts jerking himself off, and Hermann very helpfully begins fucking up into him. “Oh, fuck, _harder_! Like sexy professor and shit like that?”

“I suppose,” Hermann says mildly, complying with Newt’s request.

“You bending me over your desk and making me call you Dr. Gottlieb—”

Hermann’s hips stutter. “Oh, my...”

Newt laughs. “Figures you’d like that.” He leans over, still working his hips furiously, and moans loud and exaggerated in Hermann’s ear, “Come on, _Doctor_ , fuck me _hard_.”

Hermann comes with a grunt almost immediately.

 

* * *

   
  
And Newt can’t say no to a request like that. The next time they’re in the lab—technically they should be packing up, but Newt doesn’t feel like it so he’s just fucking around with his old Nintendo DS he found at the bottom of a drawer—Hermann sits typing away at his desk, composing some type of email, reading glasses perched on his nose. And God, damn, if he doesn’t look sexy like that. Sweatervest and all. Like a hot professor.

Newt sets down his DS, struck by an idea. He takes off his tie, rolls down his sleeves, musses his hair a bit, and walks across the room until he’s in front of Hermann’s desk. He has to clear his throat a few times before Hermann will look up. “Yes, Newton?” Hermann says.

Newt smiles shyly. “I was hoping I could talk to you about the paper, Professor Gottlieb.”

Hermann sits very, very still. And then he arches an eyebrow. “What about it, _Mr_. Geiszler?” he says, coldly.

“It’s just—” Newt fiddles with his top few buttons, bites his lip, looks down at his feet. “I could really use an extension on it.”

“An extension,” Hermann repeats.

Newt pops open a button. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve been so busy, you know.”

Hermann slowly slides off his glasses. “Mr. Geiszler,” he says, “I have given you _far_ too many extensions as is.”

Newt pops open another button, and another. “Maybe,” he says, and bites his lip again, slips his shirt off one shoulder, “we could reach an agreement?” He runs his hand down his chest. “Please, Professor? Like—like _last_ time?” Hermann doesn’t answer; Newt crosses to his side of the desk in a few quick strides, straddles his lap, and starts untucking Hermann’s shirt from his tweed pants.

“Last time— _oh_ —last time was a mistake. You simply _must_ be taught a lesson,” Hermann says sternly, but ruins the effect by groping Newt’s ass, and Newt moans and rubs back against his palms. “What exactly have you been ‘too busy’ doing to write _my_ paper?”

Newt runs his hands up Hermann's chest. “Oh, you know,” he says, and struggles to keep from laughing, “so many hot professor dicks, so little time.”

Hermann doesn’t bother trying to hide his grin. “You little _tart_ ,” he scolds, but Newt rolls his hips down and Hermann moans and clutches his ass harder, kneads it through the denim of Newt’s jeans.

“Maybe,” Newt leans down and purrs in Hermann’s ear, and Hermann shivers, “if I got on my knees and pulled out your nice—”

Someone clears their throat. “Hey, guys?” Raleigh Becket says, sounding mildly distraught, and Newt sighs. “We, uh, have a meeting.”

Newt wishes he could say this was the first time he and Hermann have shown up to a Shatterdome meeting with raging boners, but that is, unfortunately, not the truth.

 

* * *

 

Try number two, then. Also in the lab. Hermann’s stacking up a bunch of his books into boxes and he’s got his little glasses on again, and Newt gets _another_ idea.

He sidles up behind Hermann and runs his fingers down the front seam of Hermann’s pants to make sure Hermann’s _just_ that bit more susceptible to hearing him out. “You know,” Newt says, feeling Hermann’s dick twitch under his fingertips, “you look like a hot librarian right now.”

Hermann sets down the book he’d been holding and grips onto the bookshelf for support. “Oh?”

“And I think,” Newt breathes, rubbing his fingers up and down, “I need to take care of some late fees.” He grinds against Hermann’s ass and moans, and just like that, Hermann's posture stiffens and he smacks Newt’s hand away from his dick. For a wild moment, Newt thinks he’s somehow fucked something up, but then Hermann turns in his arms and gives him a _look_ over those little librarian glasses.

“I’ll have _silence_ in my library, Mr. Geiszler,” he snaps.

“Right,” Newt says, nodding furiously, “right, I can manage, I can—” Hermann pulls at Newt's tie, unknotting it so quickly Newt can’t help but let out another little breathy moan. Hermann drops his hands. “No, sorry, I’ll be quiet,” Newt says hurriedly, “I—”

Hermann’s hands go to the button of his own pants. “Perhaps,” he says, undoing it, and then the zipper, and then sliding his pants down far enough for Newt to see the head of his cock poking out over the elastic band of his briefs, “we can think of something else to preoccupy that mouth of yours so you don’t _disturb_ anyone further.”

Newt drops to his knees almost instantly. “Yeah,” he moans, mouthing him through the fabric, “yeah, okay, let’s—do that.” He pulls Hermann’s briefs down to his thighs and wraps a hand around his cock, laps at the tip and tastes precome. “ _Fuck_ , Hermann—”

“Shut _up_ ,” Hermann growls, threading his fingers in Newt’s hair and yanking him forward, shoving his cock into Newt’s mouth hard enough to make him choke. Newt whimpers, flailing his arms for something to grab onto—

—and knocks into the bookshelf.

Luckily, it doesn’t all come toppling over, like Newt thought it would, but it does creak and sway ominously, and Hermann makes a sharp noise of surprise. “Newton,” he hisses, trying to yank Newt off his dick even as Newt starts sucking harder, “stop—”

Newt pulls off with a pop, saliva and precome trailing to his lips, and pouts. Just when it was getting good. “Come _on_ , man.”

“This isn’t nearly stable enough,” Hermann insists, and pats the bookshelf. “I don’t want to _break my neck_ over—”

“Over an amazing, spectacular—” Newt scoots forward and swipes his tongue across Hermann’s slit, “—blowjob?”

Hermann shuts his eyes and grips harder at the bookshelf; it creaks a little more ominously this time, and Hermann startles. Yeah, maybe Hermann has a point. “If you’ll kindly hand me my cane,” he says, comically polite for a man whose dick is poking out a few inches from Newt’s face, “we can reconvene somewhere more comfortable.”

“Fine,” Newt sighs, and he wipes his mouth off and picks himself up.

 

* * *

   
  
The next time is, surprisingly, initiated by Hermann. They’ve finished packing up the lab and moved to packing up their bedrooms instead, and Newt’s, frankly, impressed with the sheer amount of useless shit he’s managed to accumulate in five years. He doesn’t even remember where half of it _came_ from. “Look,” he says, holding up a shirt from a random night club, “I’ve never even _been_ here.”

“Yes you have,” Hermann says, sparing a glance from one of the ancient comic books he’s dug out of Newt’s nightstand and has been flipping through mostly out of boredom. “We went there together on your thirty-third birthday.”

“No way, man, I would remember!” Newt shakes the shirt to prove his point. It’s ugly as _shit_ , with bad faux-90s neon lettering. Newt can’t imagine ever forgetting a place like that.

“You did _many_ shots,” Hermann continues, “and then tried to give me a lap dance—”

“Oh,” Newt says, sheepishly. No wonder he doesn’t remember; that’d been the night he concussed himself falling backwards off Hermann’s lap and hitting his head on a table. He quickly throws the shirt in his trash can. The next one he pulls from his drawer has fonder memories attached to it. The lettering is so faded he can barely make out the name, but it’s undeniably what he thinks it is. “Dude, look! One of my old band shirts!”

Hermann is considerably more interested in this one. He tosses the comic book to the side. “Old band shirt?”

“Yeah.” Newt yanks his t-shirt off from over his head to pull the band shirt on instead. It’s a little tight in the stomach—Newt’s old, okay—but it looks awesome anyway. He models it for Hermann, striking a pose to show off his non-existent bicep muscles. “Did you know I had a band?” He never mentioned it to Hermann while they were writing, but he wouldn’t put it past Hermann to meticulously Google everything about him the second they started corresponding.

“Of course,” Hermann scoffs, and he’s oddly pink in the face. “I owned one of your CDs, you know.”

“For real?” Newt grins. He can’t imagine Hermann listening to the (admittedly questionable) shit early-twenties Newt rolled out. _Newt_ can’t imagine listening to it, either. When Hermann colors deeper, Newt laughs delightedly. “You had a thing for rockstar me, didn't you!”

“Playing at open microphone nights is hardly being a rockstar,” Hermann sniffs, but doesn’t deny it. Newt drops next to him on the bed and kisses the side of his neck, and Hermann hums and wraps an arm around Newt. “I found clips of your band when I researched you, after your first letter. I suppose—well.” He sounds _super_ embarrassed. “I’d have the _occasional_ fantasy—”

“Hermann,” Newt says seriously, “I think you have the honor of being the official _sole_ groupie of my shitty punk band.”

“Oh, hush,” Hermann says, but his blush has reached his ears. God, he’s cute.

“I can picture it now,” Newt says, rolling onto his back (Hermann makes a sad little noise at the lack of kisses that’s also really cute). “I’m on tour—I see you in the crowd—I ask for you to come backstage because I think you’re _so_ hot—”

“—and then you’d sing to me,” Hermann admits. Newt didn't really expect Hermann to play along, let alone take it _further_ , but Hermann looks at him in a way that’s almost innocent—this is _Hermann’s_ fantasy, Newt remembers, he’s probably played something like this out in his head hundreds of times. “Can I have your autograph, Newt?” he says, fluttering his eyelashes, and it’s amazing how fast Newt gets hard.

“My autograph?” he repeats, and Hermann nods, bashful.

“I’m a _huge_ fan of yours,” he says, and Newt can see he’s just as hard as Newt is. “I own all of your albums.”

“Thought you just had one,” Newt interrupts, grinning, but Hermann ignores him.

“I’ve seen _all_ your shows,” Hermann continues pointedly. Shit, Newt’s bad at this. Regular Newt would be jumping on Hermann’s dick right now like he very, very badly wants to. What would famous rockstar Newt do? Act like an aloof asshole, probably, offer to take Hermann back to his trailer or just bend him over a makeup table. Newt’s gut clenches at the thought of manhandling Hermann like that; is it weird to be simultaneously turned on and repulsed by the actions of an alternate universe Newt?

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Newt says, tugging at the front of Hermann’s sweater. Hermann looks down at Newt’s hand with wide eyes.

“Ah,” Hermann says, “I’m Hermann. Dr. Hermann Gottlieb.”

Figures Hermann’s still a doctor in a sex fantasy where Newt’s evidently just a horny musician. “Hermann,” Newt says, and untucks his sweater from his pants, worms his hand up Hermann’s shirt and licks at the shell of Hermann’s bright red ear. “How about I give my number one fan a private performance?” Hermann nods shakily.

Newt grabs lube from the nightstand while Hermann strips himself of his pants and underwear, and Newt shimmies his skinny jeans down just enough to pull out his dick. Hermann lays down and preps himself while Newt sits back and watches eagerly, touching himself with slow strokes. “I bet this is all your dreams come true, huh?” Newt says, not sure whether to fix his eyes on Hermann’s long, elegant fingers sliding in and out of his hole or the way he bites his lip to stifle his moans. “Getting fucked by a _super famous_ and _super sexy_ rock star.”

Hermann rolls his eyes. “Don’t push it, dear.”

“Getting fucked by a moderately successful and charmingly geeky rock star?” Newt revises.

“Better.” Hermann stretches his fingers one last time in himself before pulling them out with a satisfied groan. “Whenever you’re ready. Ah, that is—” He spreads his legs—an invitation Newt can’t refuse. “Be gentle,” he says, voice gone shy, almost ridiculously so, “I’ve been _saving myself_ for you, Newt.”

“Oh, _fuck_ , Hermann,” Newt moans, cock pulsing in his hand, and he’s so turned on he only just remembers to put lube on himself before grabbing at Hermann’s thighs and shoving into him. Hermann’s so _tight_ and _hot_ , and his eyes nearly roll back into his head when Newt bottoms out, and it’s so _sexy_ and Newt suddenly remembers why he doesn’t top very often. “Shit,” he pants, pulling out and slamming back in, “fuck, Hermann, oh, I think I’m about to—”

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Hermann groans. “You bloody—”

“I promised you a private performance!” Newt almost shouts as he suddenly remembers, drilling into Hermann wildly, his orgasm building, “I’m supposed to sing to you! I gotta—” He lets go of one of Hermann’s ankles to fumble for his phone on the nightstand, and pulls up one of his old albums he burned to his music library from a CD nearly a decade ago (he couldn’t afford the $50 fee to put it on iTunes, okay).

“What the hell are you _doing_?” Hermann pants.

Newt queues up the first song, and it’s like instantly being doused with cold water, which wasn’t his intent at _all_. It was supposed to be sexy. He was going to, like, sing along to it to Hermann or something while he fucked him like the amazing sexy rockstar he was pretending to be. The thing is, Newt underestimated how _unsexy_ his screechy singing voice was at age twenty-three.

He and Hermann look at each other; Newt’s erection has all but wilted entirely. “You used to jerk off to _this_?” Newt says, pulling out of Hermann.

“Oh, shut up.”

 

* * *

 

Newt doesn’t _mean_ to pop a boner when they’re watching some terrible 1950s science fiction b-movie together a few weeks later. It’s not like he gets off to bad prosthetic makeup or big, hulking, sexy monsters stealing him away into the night and ripping off all his clothing and ravishing him—maybe Newt gets off to big, hulking, sexy monsters sometimes. But he doesn’t mean to think about it now, not with Hermann’s arm around his shoulder as they share a moment of happy domesticity.

Hermann chokes on his popcorn when he sees that Newt’s enjoying the film more than the average moviegoer should. “I’m sorry!” Newt squeaks, covering himself with one of the new throw pillows they bought for the sofa as Hermann downs the rest of his water glass. “It’s kinda hot, okay!”

“Which _part_?” Hermann wheezes.

Newt squirms. His boner hasn’t gone away. “Uh. You know. Getting kidnapped by a monster, and—” Newt turns beet red at the blank look at Hermann’s face. “It’s stupid, I’m sorry. I’m weird.”

“Newton, it's not weird,” Hermann says gently. He pauses the television. “Is this something you would like to...play around with, together?”

Newt’s dick throbs embarrassingly in the confines of his jeans. “Oh, fuck, can we?” He’d never admit it to Hermann, but—sometimes he just likes to _combine_ fantasies, you know? Two birds with one stone? Getting ravished by a huge monster (with a huge monster dick) that also happens to be Hermann, sucking his big monster dick, _riding_ his big monster dick—Newt’s jerked off to the thought a few times, he can’t help it.

“I won’t _quite_ be able to whisk you away, I’m afraid,” Hermann says with a little smile, “but if you’d like to wait on the bed…?”

Newt’s already up and off the sofa and sprinting towards their bedroom before Hermann can finish the sentence. He doesn’t bother undressing, just lays down and waits eagerly. He does shut off the lights, though.

Hermann comes in after a few minutes and just stands in the doorway, framed by the light from the hallway outside. Newt’s mouth goes dry in anticipation. “ _Why_ have you brought me to this horrible place?” he exclaims, like he’s some helpless heroine and their nicely furnished bedroom is some sort of damp cave. Hermann says nothing, just takes a few shuffling steps over. “Please don’t hurt me,” Newt says, and he can’t help but palm his dick a little, “I’m just a scientist, I just wanted to know more—” Hermann sits on the edge of the bed and settles his cane against the nightstand, reaches out and grabs at Newt’s shirt, inspects it. “What do you want from me?” Newt stammers, and then Hermann rips Newt’s shirt open with such ferocity that buttons go pinging across the room and hit the wall, and Newt moans. “ _Oh_!”

Hermann drags his nails down Newt’s chest—Newt can kind of pretend it’s a _claw_ of some sort, that Hermann’s really some terrifying monster about to have his way with Newt, and Hermann pinches Newt’s nipples like he’s never seen them before and Newt whimpers. He kisses Newt a moment later, forces his tongue into Newt’s mouth, and Newt drags Hermann down on top of him. Of course, he _shouldn’t_ have; when Hermann’s bad knee hits the bed a bit harder than Newt intended and at a weird angle, Hermann hisses and swears in a combination of surprise and pain.

“Oh, shit!” Newt says, hands flying up to grab Hermann’s arms, and he rolls them so Hermann’s on his back, starts planting kisses across his face in apology, “I’m sorry, dude—”

Hermann pats his back. “It’s alright, darling,” he says. “You were just a bit...over-enthusiastic.”

Hermann's fine, but Newt feels bad so he just ends up kissing him through an apologetic handjob, and then they cuddle for a bit before they go to bed. At least it was fun while it lasted.

 

* * *

 

This time, it’ll work. They’re both into it, they’re both excited (and super horny), Newt is riding Hermann within an inch of his life and his shirt’s nearly torn clean off and Hermann is rolling his thumbs over his nipples through the tears in fabric. “Oh, fuck, _yeah_ ,” Newt gasps, arms shaking as he braces himself against the headboard, “fuck, fuck, is that good? Do you feel good? Am I good?” He squeezes down around Hermann, and Hermann rolls Newt’s nipples harder.

“You’re—more than satisfactory,” Hermann chokes out, as monotone as he can manage.

Newt grins down at him. “Warp speed ahead, Mr. Spock.” He stills for just a moment, then starts working his hips hard and fast enough that the headboard slams against the wall with a rhythmic _thudding_. Fuck, Hermann feels so _good_ in him, this is some of the best sex they’ve ever had, Newt’s _almost there_ , Hermann might not even have to touch him—

“Sulu steers the ship,” Hermann gasps, “you _idiot_. Spock doesn’t— _oh_ —”

“And Spock would never talk to his captain like that,” Newt exclaims, “if we’re so caught up in _accuracy_!”

“It breaks the—” Hermann moans as Newt takes him in deep and squeezes particularly hard, “—the _realism_ of it, oh, _yes_ , Newton—!”

“Captain Kirk,” Newt corrects automatically with a moan. “Oh, _shit_ , fuck me with your sexy Vulcan _dick_ —wait—I’m—the _realism_? What—what _fucking_ realism? You’re in plastic Halloween ears.”

“Hush,” Hermann says, and he lets out another deep, filthy moan. “I’m nearly—”

“The hand thing,” Newt pants, “touch my hand—” He pulls his hand off the headboard and arranges his fingers shakily into the right configuration with the little _v_ , but Hermann doesn’t press his hand to Newt’s. He just looks at him incredulously.

“That holds a _vast deal_ of weight in Vulcan society, Newton,” he says, like they’re not married and he’s not currently balls deep in Newt’s ass, and also like he’s not _not a fucking Vulcan_.

“God, you’re such an _asshole_ ,” Newt moans, “just do the thing with me, man, come on—” Hermann relents, lets Newt press their hands together, and Newt feels his orgasm approaching hard and fast. “Call me your—you know—” Newt cries out. “Please, come on, come on—”

“My t’hy’la?” Hermann says, and Newt sees stars, he’s done for, he comes in spurts across Hermann’s blue uniform shirt with a wail, and Hermann’s mouth drops open as he follows.

(“It was alright, I suppose,” Hermann says a bit later, visibly disappointed. “I would’ve liked it to have been a bit more— _accurate_.”

“You’re the worst,” Newt tells him.)

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” Newt says to the bartender, sliding a twenty dollar bill at him, “see that guy down there?” Herma—uh, a very handsome stranger in tweed who Newt’s never met before in his life is sitting further down the bar, sipping at a glass of wine and looking exceptionally mysterious, and Newt intends to make him his date for the night. The bartender (who looks a little bemused, Newt’s wearing a full-on tuxedo, after all) nods. “All his drinks are on me for the rest of the night.” Newt winks, and then sidles his way down to that handsome stranger.

The stranger doesn’t notice him at first, and takes a few more long sips from his wine glass before Newt finally clears his throat. He sets down the glass, turns and regards Newt with obvious interest. “Oh. Hello,” he says.

“Hi,” Newt says, and grins. He got a whiskey before this but hasn’t touched any of it so far—all for the aesthetic—so he finally takes a long sip. It’s pretty gross, but it fits what he’s going for.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before,” the stranger says. “I find it hard to imagine I’d forget a face like _yours_.”

“Name’s Newt Geiszler,” Newt says. “I like long walks on the beach and handsome physicists.”

“How fortunate for me,” the stranger says, and holds out his hand. “Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. Physicist.”

Newt kisses Hermann’s hand. “Fortunate for _me_ , you mean.” Hermann holds his eye contact a split second too long, and a light blush spreads across his cheeks. Newt lowers his voice. “What do you say you and I get out of here?”

 

“We hardly know each other,” Hermann gasps, hitting his head against the apartment door as Newt wraps his hand around their cocks and brings them off in quick, hard strokes. “This is _absurd_ —!”

“Not that kind of boy, huh?” Newt says, smearing precome across the heads of their cocks, and Hermann grabs at the back of his suit coat for support.

“Of course not,” Hermann moans.

“Because you’re _kind of_ looking like you are, baby,” Newt says, grinding their hips together, and Hermann pushes him forward into a hard, biting kiss.

Hermann ends up fucking him right into the mattress, which is so awesome and hot that Newt only manages to last five minutes before he’s blowing his load all over the sheets. He waits for Hermann—still hard—to pull out before Newt rolls them over and jerks Hermann off just in front of his face, mouth open and tongue out to catch what he can, and Hermann grabs at his hair and shouts when he comes across Newt’s cheeks and glasses.

Later, as they hold each other in bed and trade little kisses, Hermann strokes his sweaty hair out of his face and smiles at him. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” Hermann says. “A tuxedo? You looked _fiendishly_ handsome, darling, don’t misunderstand, but—”

“I’m also secretly a spy,” Newt explains (Hermann told him to prepare a character and Newt might've gotten a little carried away with it), “and it was my mission tonight to seduce you.” He snuggles up a little closer and kisses the top of Hermann’s chest. “While you were distracted, I stole _highly_ classified PPDC secrets.”

“I see,” Hermann says, and ruffles his hair. “Happy anniversary, Newton.”

“Happy anniversary,” Newt says happily.

**Author's Note:**

> i just love these two u know
> 
> on twitter: hermanngaylieb, nsfw twitter (18+ have age in bio pls!) hermanngayszler  
> tumblr: hermannsthumb


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